


The Last Train Home

by Monochromatic (Karkachu)



Category: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Genre: F/F, NOBODY TELL FIMFICTION, a bit of angst, a ton of rarity, also a weird kind of POV style, anyway yes lots of fluff, cute fluff stuff, i'll post it on fimfic when the story is completely done, it makes sense I promise, it's like first person while being second person??, its basically canon-verse with stuff moved around, rarilight, raritwi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 04:09:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12473164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karkachu/pseuds/Monochromatic
Summary: If life truly is like a train ride, one must wonder how many ponies mistakenly focus on the destination. How many, like Rarity, get caught up in the future and take for granted the most important thing: those who've chosen to come along with you for the ride.





	1. I - IV

#  **The Last Train Home**  
**by Monochromatic**

# 

[Set in a timeline where the Grand Galloping Gala took place three or so months after the S1 premiere]  


* * *

_“Rarity?”_

_“My darling?”_

_“Remember our month in Canterlot? Right after our first Grand Galloping Gala?”_

_“Of course. How can I not? I remember it as though it were yesterday.”_

_“Hm. You know, you’ve never told me your side of it.”_

_“I haven’t? Well! I don’t see why I can’t tell you now. It’s a long ride back home, after all.”_

* * *

# I. The Princess’s Request

   
You were quite the enigma.

The very first time I saw you, I thought I knew exactly who you were. In fact, I believe I said as much when I dragged you into my boutique to... _improve_  your interesting manestyle. You were Twilight Sparkle, Princess Celestia’s prized student and no doubt a model example of Canterlot’s grand sophistication and glamour.

I was wrong about you, of course. Ponies are not always what they seem, what they say, what they claim to be. I certainly don’t enjoy being wrong, but mistakes pave the way to success, do they not?

It started with a request from the Princess—you delivered the scroll personally, do you remember?— asking if I might be available to work on a few commissions for her while her tailor was on vacation.

Apparently, she’d been thoroughly impressed by the dresses I designed for the gala.

I think I nearly toppled you over when I threw myself at you in exhilaration at the news. Swung you in my arms as though you were my hopes and dreams themselves, and in retrospect, I wish I had taken the time to truly notice the effect it had on you. How you stumbled back, face flushed, unsure of how to act. I thought it to be natural. We’d only been friends for, hmm, about three or four months? And you weren’t exactly a social butterfly, so I pegged your stammering and embarrassment on the fact that you were socially anxious, to put it kindly.

I was too thrilled to think otherwise. Even despite the sour taste the Gala had left in my mouth, I couldn’t deny I was still taken by our capital city, and the opportunities to be found within.  
    
 

# II. The Train Station

      
You were an early riser.

It had been a particularly cold morning when it all began. The winter months hadn’t yet arrived, but the cold had come early as it tended to do. It chilled me to my drowsy bones with its unfettered access to the lone station that made up Ponyville’s train station. If only the weather indulged in being fashionably late. Yet I couldn’t complain. Winter fashion has always been much more elegant, and I was certain Princess Celestia would approve of my ensembles.

The train station was nearly empty. I was hardly surprised. I covered a yawn with my hoof, and my tired eyes traveled towards the clock hanging from the nearby wall. Quarter to five it said. What an ungodly hour to be awake! But I was expected at the castle at nine o’clock sharp, and the train ride would take about three hours and a half.

I tightened my scarf—a blue cashmere wonder I’d purchased at a market a few years ago; it was as stylish as it was heavenly—and swept my eyes across the station. The one or two suitcases I brou—Oh, fine!

The six  _small_  and  _necessary_  suitcases I brought with me lay in a pile besides me. A pegasus stallion stood on the other side of the station, his head bobbing up and down as he desperately tried to remain awake. A unicorn mare sat on a bench behind him, the morning newspaper and a cup of coffee floating before her.

I looked away, stifling another yawn. I wished I’d brought coffee along with me. I am, as you know very well, a lover of tea, but I think only a shot of espresso could rouse me from the sandpony’s lingering embrace.

I closed my eyes. I breathed in the morning air. In a few hours, I would be in Canterlot Castle. In a few hours, a silly dream would be reality. In a few hours… I felt my heart hammering in my chest, and I opened my eyes, setting them on the empty track before me. My throat felt dry suddenly, and my stomach twisted with the fear of the unknown.

I was going to be working for Princess Celestia.

_Princess Celestia!_

Granted, it was only going to be a two-month long or so assignment, and I would only be going to Canterlot three to four times a week, but still!

Or rather, I’d be travelling to Canterlot if the train even arrived in the first place. I glared at the tracks, as if my irritation might bring it forth. I didn’t want to be late for my first day! Honestly, couldn’t the conductor have been a bit more considerate? I was a hero of the nation, for pony’s sake! Saved it from Nightmare Moon! What had the world come to, I ask of you. One spends her entire life devoted to improving one’s kingdom and— _pardon me,_  but designing clothes  _is_  an improvement to the nation!

Where was I?

Ah, yes!

One spends her entire life devoted to  _bettering_  the kingdom’s image, later saves it from a terrible evil, and yet they can’t deign themselves with having the train be early?! It’s simply rude, is what it is.

I trotted over towards the ticket booth and addressed the half-asleep stallion, one of my lone companions in what felt like an eternal morning. “Excuse me, sir,” I said, rousing him from his nap. “Do you happen to know if the train will be on time?”

He blinked at me once, twice, thrice, and then slowly—agonizingly slowly, I tell you—glanced at the watch on his wrist. “The train should get here just fine, ma’am,” he said, looking back at me and yawning right in my face.

How insolent! And not only insolent, but rude too! He called me ma’am! Do I look like an old mare! I’m a miss! Or, was. Am, still.

Regardless, I made my way back to my spot and closed my eyes again, trying to keep my cool. The attitude one, not the physical one. I wish I had thought to bring a coat. I breathed in again, and my tension ebbed away when the most wonderful scent filled the air. It reminded me of the almond cappuccino I sometimes treat myself to at Sugarcube Corner whenever they’re out of my favorite vanilla and lavender tea.

In fact.

In fact, it smelled  _exactly_  like the almond cappuccino from the pastry shop, and when I opened my eyes, I found out that’s exactly what it was. A large cup of coffee floated before me, enveloped in a familiar raspberry magic, the steam caressing my face like a lover might.

“Wha…?”

I turned around and what did I find but you.

There you stood, Twilight Sparkle, the unicorn who’d saved Equestria.

The newest addition to my social circle, and at the time, and even now, by far the most interesting. Fluttershy, ever my partner-in-crime, was my dearest friend; Rainbow wasn’t one to share my interests, but I enjoyed her company; Applejack was certainly the most mature, but also my diametric opposite in many obvious ways; Pinkie was, well, Pinkie; but you…

You were interesting.

Very, very interesting.

“Good morning, Rarity!” you said with much more life and excitement that such an early morning warranted. You were wearing a rather fetching blue scarf—interesting  _and_  fashionable! What a lethal combination!—and the cutest pair of earmuffs. I would have said as much did I not feel like death.

“Twilight!” I exclaimed, your surprise appearance certainly succeeding in waking me somewhat. Granted, I hardly knew you at the time, but I think I’d have known if you were in the habit of wandering Ponyville at dawn. “Goodness, Twilight, it’s five in the morning! What are  _you_  doing here?”

You flinched. Very subtly, somepony less detail-oriented might not have noticed, but you flinched.

“Uhh… Well, going to Canterlot, I hope!” you exclaimed in a hurry, offering a nervous smile. “Is that okay?”

I frowned, confused.

 _“Is that okay?”_  I repeated. You asked the oddest of questions, I swear. “Why in Equestria wouldn’t it be?”

You blinked at me, and your cheeks turned red as you awkwardly tugged on your scarf. It was  _most_ endearing. If we’d been closer friends, I’d have pinched your cheeks. “Uhm…” The cup of coffee floated closer towards me. “Coffee? Pinkie told me this one’s your favorite.”

I was polite enough to indulge your obvious attempt to change the topic, and gratefully took the coffee in my own magic after thanking you. It smelled wonderfully, and tasted as much. The nervousness that had plagued me seemed to melt away with the warmth filling my body.

Or, it might have been your very presence. Your pleased smile as I hummed in delight, as though my very soul knew even then that something would grow between us. Like our very own cutie marks, destiny had interwoven our fates together so we may face hardships and fig—What?

No, I am not getting sidetracked. This is incredibly vital! It’s hardly my fault you lack any showmareship whatsoever.

Do  _you_  want to tell the story then? That’s what I thought.

Yes, perhaps, even then, our decisions had led us to this fate, for destiny truly does rule—yes, it does. Twilight, be serious! What! Look at us! Look at our society! You think ponies’ cutie marks  _coincidentally_  happen to match the  _random_  name their parents gave them?  _Please._

See! Now I don’t remember where I left off…

Let’s see. You arrived with coffee, with your fetching scarf, your fetching face, and then…oh, yes!

“I hadn’t the faintest idea you were going to Canterlot!” I exclaimed.

“Oh! Uhm. Yes,” you said with all the eloquence of a well-read pony. You smiled sheepishly, because...sheep are embarrassed when they smile? Appa—no, I don’t want the etymology! I was being—! Twilight Sparkle, I’m putting a silencer spell on you! I will!

There.

“I thought I told you,” you said, smiling apologetically. “I still have assignments to do for Princess Celestia back in Canterlot, and since you’d be coming, she decided to have me come on the same days you would.”

“Did she now? I suppose it makes sense.” I hummed thoughtfully. “And she’s making you take the 5 AM train?”

You nodded. “Yes. I have to be there at…” You paused briefly. “Nine o’clock.”

A smile swept past my face. “Oh! Just like me! I would have thought she’d go easier on you, you being her student and all! Do you at least get to go home early?”

You shook your head.

“No. That’s why Spike is staying at the library to help customers. Because I’ll have to go home in the late-night train,” you said, and yet you didn’t look so dismayed by the news. I didn’t think much of it, admittedly.

“Oh dear, long days await you then, I fear,” I said, trying to sound sympathetic for your plight. “I’m quite sorry, Twilight.”

Ha! What a laugh! I was  _delighted_  the Princess had stuck you onto my schedule! Not because of any joy derived from your situation, mind, but because it meant I would get to spend the long commute in the company of my newest and most interesting friend.

I don’t quite remember what we talked about afterwards. It was cold, and early, and though I had my coffee, I was still half-asleep. The train arrived on time, I think; I took one of my suitcases, and you kindly took the others.

The train was empty, as expected considering the time, and so we were able to have a private cabin all for ourselves. Do you remember the number? Cabin 3-C. Small for parties of six, but big enough for a party of two and their six suitcases. I sat next to the window, and so did you sit on the opposite side.

I thought nothing of it, at the time.

We were just friends, you and I. Two friends going to Canterlot.  
    
 

# III. The Shape of Your Smiles

    
I don’t think I’d ever really truly noticed you before. I thought you were interesting, yes, but not somepony to completely devote myself to.

Don’t look so cross! I’m noticing you now, aren’t I? I notice you all the time nowadays, my eyes constantly drawn to you, my ears swivelling towards your voice, my entire self focused on you, but back then…

It wasn’t that you were shy. Quite the contrary, you were a presence by the mere fact you were torn between being and not being one. You were a walking paradox, and in many ways still are. Torn between shunning others and involving them, not out of ill-will but simple inexperience. You would get miffed at me if I dared interrupt your reading, but ah, how’d you talk if I asked what the book was about.

You’d brought one along for the ride, do you remember? What was it? Winter's Winds? No? Ah, yes, you’re right!  _The Otherworldly Archives_  by Single Color. I’d fallen asleep somewhere along the ride, dreamt of the Princess and my future in the Castle, and when I woke, I found you enraptured in your book. Your eyes flicked from left to right, your ears raising and lowering with every paragraph, and your attention wholly dedicated to the words before you.

In that moment, you reminded me of myself. It made me smile. We’d yet to really talk, really get to know each other, but I didn’t need to know you to see you were devoted. I’d seen as much when I first met you, how relentless you were in your pursuit for Nightmare Moon. I don’t believe that I’d found it attractive so early on, but I appreciated it.

I remember wishing somepony would be as enraptured by me as you were by books.

I fell asleep soon after, and I woke not to the sound of the conductor’s voice or the train’s whistle, but to the sound of your voice and a gentle shake of my shoulders. My eyes fluttered open, a yawn left my lips, and I remember your smile. Goodness, that sounds so corny when I say it like that, but it’s true. I always remember your smiles because they were… they are…

What’s the word I’m looking for? It’s not that they were genuine, for Pinkie has very genuine smiles that are nothing like yours. You smiled… so earnestly. I think that’s the word I’m looking for. You were earnest in your smiles, as you were in everything else you did.

You were smiling earnestly at me.

“Twilight?” I asked, momentarily forgetting where I was or what was going on.

“We’re here!” you exclaimed, stamping your hooves against the floor.

“We’re here?” I asked, confused. My gaze landed on the window, and I saw our kingdom’s beautiful capital city beyond it. I also saw the time on the clocktower in the distance. “Horrors! We’re here, andit’s nearly nine!”

No, I did not panic. I was simply… concerned, is all. I only threw the little luggage at your face in my attempt to rush out! It could have been worse. I could have thrown the large one! Well, yes, throwing luggage at and asking your  _new_  friend to carry your bags isn’t  _truly_  proper etiquette, but you still graciously did it and this is why you’re wonderful, darling.

Yes, I  _am_  sweet-talking myself out of culpability, and you’re being awfully dramatic over something that happened so long ago. Only I can do that, thank you very much.

Running through the city wasn't really how I'd expected my first day to be like. I had planned on taking my time, seeing the sights, window shopping a bit, maybe buying a few trinkets, and instead I was running a marathon. I was terrified! What if I was late? What would the Princess say?

And yet, when I turned back to you, you looked entertained. You were laughing at my misery, Twilight! Yes, you were! Giggling and rolling your eyes at me! Of course  _you_  knew the Princess wouldn't expel me to the moon for being late, but I am not you! My career was at stake! My reputation! My entire life!

"Twilight, please," I whined, coming to a screech on the castle path, stamping my hooves against the ground. I fell onto my haunches, my chest heaving. I was more out of shape than I expected. The unfortunate consequences of indulging in one too many of Pinkie's pastries. "It's almost nine, and the castle is  _miles_ away!"

You frowned in that way you do when you think I'm being dramatic. Which is always. The frowning I mean, not me being dramatic.

"Rarity." You pointed towards the gate, which, as I said, was  _miles_  away. "The gate isn't even two-hundred feet away."

You were always bad at math.

"It's  _ruined,_  I tell you!" I exclaimed, as it—In retrospect, I will concede that I was being a  _little_  dramatic. I got up, turned around and made my way down the path because clearly I was not ready, and I could always come back in a few years, and it was all simply ruined. "I can't show my face ever again in the—eep!  _Twilight Sparkle!"_

As though I were an  _object_  myself, I found myself being levitated amongst my suitcases. It was scandalous! And the worst part is you  _always_  do that! You’re objectifying me!

"Twilight, put me down!" I protested, glaring down at your innocent smile. "Put me down right now!"

You giggled, as if giggling adorably would absolve you of your insolence, and walked towards the castle. "You don't have to be nervous, Rarity."

I harrumphed. "I am  _not_  nervous!"

I was ridiculously nervous.

We reached the gates, and you had the gall to engage in small talk with the guards while I was still floating about  _upside down!_  Rightside-up! Diagonally! Yes, horizontally and vertically too! Finally, after the longest minute of my entire Celestia-forsaken life, you continued towards the castle and dropped me—alright, you didn't drop me, you gently put me down and then  _giggled_  again! Karmic revenge for me taking pleasure out of you having to wake up at ungodly hours with me!

"We're here, see," you said, and then gestured towards a nearby street clock. "Fifteen minutes  _early."_

"Well!  _Well!_ It seems we are, but I knew we would be." I giggled. "And you were worried we’d be late, Twilight! Really, you mustn't fret so much over  _every_  little thing, you know? It's not healthy. "

"No," you said, tilting your head ever so slightly and raising your eyebrow. "No, it's not. I'm  _so glad_ you're here to set a better example."

I grinned. "Aren't you just."

And then you smiled.

You know, I'm telling you this, and I think I finally realize why authors spend so much time describing smiles in stories. There was amusement in your grin, certainly, but…but it shone with affection. That should have been my first sign. I pride myself with having absolute attention to detail, with having perfected reading in-between the lines to an art form, yet I didn't see what was clear before me.

I would eventually learn that  _that_  particular smile was reserved only for me, but back then, I thought nothing of it but the fact that it made me feel like, perhaps, there truly was no reason to be nervous.

With a renewed sense of purpose, I returned your smile and marched forwards into what promised to be an interesting new chapter in the story of my life.

Unfortunately, we didn’t stay together for much longer once we entered the castle. A few ponies were trotting about, and from what you told me, my destination was somewhere in the west wing while yours was in the east wing.

I asked you about my predecessor, remember?

“Perfect Stitch can be difficult,” you said, referring to the castle’s elderly tailor. You bit down on your lip, hesitant, and then added with a frown, “She’s a perfectionist. And she’s not afraid to speak her mind.”

“ _Really?_  I could hardly tell by her name!” I replied, and I stuck out my tongue when you rolled your eyes. Not a very ladylike behaviour, I admit, but it made you laugh, and that was good enough for me. Afterwards, I tossed my mane back and fluttered my eyelashes. “Not to worry, darling! I’ll be sure to dazzle her! After she’s met me, she’ll want to cancel her vacation just so she can see me work my magic!”

You laughed, and I felt an odd sort of thrill by the fact. I aim to please, and it seemed that my magic was at least working on you.

“I… I don’t know, Rarity,” you warned. “She didn’t get her reputation from out of thin air. She used to be very severe with me, and I think even Princess Celestia is a bit afraid of her. I once saw her scold the Princess when I was a filly.”

“Twilight, really. She’s an old mare! She’s mellowed out, I’m sure,” I said, brushing you off. You were probably exaggerating! And let’s face it, you don’t usually have the best taste in outfits, so it wasn’t hard to imagine she was put off by whatever ensembles you wore as a foal.

“Come on,” you said, moving along towards the west wing. “We don’t want to be late.”

“But, Twilight,” I said, nodding towards the staircase leading to the east wing, “Princess Celestia’s office is over that way. Don’t you have to meet with her in ten minutes?”

You gave me an owlish stare. “What? I do?” you asked. Your eyes widened, and so did your ears straighten. “O-Oh! Right! I do! I forgot.” A streak of red colored your cheeks, and you let out a nervous laugh, again pulling on your scarf. “Sorry.”

“Twilight... Are you feeling well?” I asked, and felt tempted to raise my hoof to check your temperature. “It isn’t like you to forget a meeting with  _Princess Celestia.”_ A devious smirk pushed itself onto my lips. “My, my, my! It seems that  _I_  am not the only one who’s nervous around here!”

“I’m not nervous!” you protested, and to prove the fact, you stomped away in a huff for the incredible length of five full steps before unceremoniously stopping and turning around. “Uhm. See you later?”

I smiled. “But of course. Lunch should do, and if not, we’ll meet up at the gates tonight? I should be off by seven-thirty, I expect.”

“Seven-thirty,” you repeated, as if engraving it in a mental calendar. You smiled at me one last time. “All right! Good luck!”

I watched you leave, and it wasn’t until you were gone that an ache nestled itself in my heart. I was well and truly alone now, with no choice but to fend for myself! I looked around, at the castle that had previously filled me with awe and yet now filled me with…

Bleh.

Yes, bleh! It is in fact an emotion, I’ll have you know! Sad to see it's lacking from your dictionary. It means to feel restless towards the forthcoming challenges of life. I came up with it just now. Because I’m clever that way.

I felt very bleh, until I thought of you.

I remembered your smile, your wish of good luck, and so I took a deep breath, trying to steady my mind and nerves. I couldn’t allow my anxieties to win! My new friend believed in me, and so it was imperative I made sure her belief was well placed. I didn’t want to spend the train ride back home being miserable, after all. Do you even know how much ice cream costs in Canterlot?

Besides, I was Rarity! The paragon of fabulosity in Equestria! The most beautiful, the most radiant, the most—Pardon me, but I am a model example of humility!

I  _humbly_  made my way towards Perfect Stitch’s workshop, determined to show her what I was made of, and show _you_  that you were wrong about how difficult she was.  
    
 

# IV. Tea for Two

I hate it when you’re right.

On one hoof, I’m delighted you’re so clever, but on the other hoof, your cleverness always seems to come at the cost of my dignity and pride.

Perfect Stitch wasn’t difficult. She was whatever comes after that, multiplied by a thousand. And here I thought  _I_  was a stickler for details! You'd think she was military personnel making sure I was up to the task of defending Equestria from crimes against fabulosity.

Which, granted, I was, but still!

She asked to see all my designs, make sure they were up to par. If only I could have travelled in time and brought back my portfolio with the designs I made for Sapphire Shores! She tested me on a wide array of skills, as well, ranging from my hoof-eye coordination and dexterity to my attention to detail. I also had to engage with one of her clients—Duchess Windhigh, specifically; you remember her, don't you?—and I was to make sure she left convinced her dress would be fantastic.

I thought of you as lunchtime approached, but my charms had finally done their magic, and Perfect Stitch treated me to lunch at a restaurant in the Moon District.  _The Princess's Guard,_  if I remember correctly. No, you wouldn't have heard of it, dearest. In any case, there wasn't a single pony there that didn't look the part of aristocrats. Everything they did, they did with grace and finesse.

Now you see why you've never been there.

After lunch—are you done pouting, dearest? I was mostly kidding—we returned, and I finished a few designs, just so she could take her vacation without reservations. She even let me leave early! She must have been pleased with my results, and frankly, so was I.

I had hoped to meet with the Princess, as well, but it seemed she was otherwise occupied. I found myself at a loss for what to do. I still had about an hour left before we were supposed to meet, and I had no one to  _humbly_  share my success with. Eventually, I walked around the castle area, and that's when I discovered  _Lavender's Tea Time._ It drew me to it with its delicious aroma  _and_  affordable prices. I spent about an hour trying to decide what tea to buy out of its wide selection, and as our meeting time approached, I settled with buying the first two teas out of many to come.

Nutmeg Delight for me, and Rosepetal Wonders for you.

When I came back, I found you pacing by the gate. You seemed preoccupied, and kept glancing towards the castle. Had your assignments gone badly? The joy I felt dissipated at the thought, and I did my best to mask it away. As much as my own success delighted me, I didn't want to flaunt it in your face if you weren't feeling well.

You didn't notice me approaching, and instead sat on your haunches, closing your eyes and taking several deep breaths. A coy smile shaped my lips. When I was close enough, I did as you earlier had and levitated the tea right under your nose, a trail of steam rising and caressing your face.

Your nose twitched, and your eyes fluttered open.

"Huh?" you asked, and when you finally noticed me, your entire disposition changed. Your worry vanished almost instantly, and your eyes sparkled in the twilight. Yes, that was completely intentional. "Oh! Rarity! How did it go?!" You blinked. "Wait, you went for tea? You finished early?!" The worry returned tenfold, and you stepped back. "It… Did it not go well…?"

You were so concerned! It was endearing, and had I been bolder, I'd have tapped your nose with my hoof.

I sighed, looking away into the distant setting sun. "No, it did not go well. It went..."

I paused for effect.  
_..._  
_..._  
_..._  
_..._  
_..._  
_..._  
"Well?" you pressed, just like you did right now.

"Well..." I murmured, and finally, I offered you a dazzling grin. "It went splendidly! She  _loved_  my designs, as I knew she would, and she was so impressed by my methods, she decided I could leave early! I am officially the castle’s tailor for the month!"

“Rarity! That’s wonderful!” you exclaimed, and rushed forward to joyfully embrace me. “I knew you could do it!”

That was my first sign, I think. The first time something struck me as odd, out-of-place. Personally, I wouldn’t have thought much of you hugging me, as I myself was quite invested in physical affection, platonic or romantic. If you had pulled away and carried on with a bright smile, I wouldn’t have suspected a single thing.

But you didn’t.

The hug didn’t last even a second too long before you suddenly pulled away, cheeks flushed. “Oh, uhm, sorry,” you blurted out, apparently embarrassed by your actions.

And, you know, Twilight, all things considered, I  _should_  have pegged it on your social inexperience. I  _should_  have attributed your fluster to a clear desire not to offend a new friend with potentially undesired physical intimacy.

I could have, and I would later on, but for a moment...

For a brief moment, with a furrowed brow and searching eyes, I wondered if something else was hidden in the air between you and I.

What was it that led me to wonder that? Even now I’m still not entirely sure. Wishful thinking? I don’t think, not that early, at least. Maybe it was just the grand scheme of it all; my professional dreams had literally just come to fruition in the city of my dreams, so my brain decided that some sort of romantic event had to happen in order for the dream to be entirely complete.

But, rather than dwell on it, I waved your concerns away and took a sip of tea.

“Shall we go?” I asked. “The first of many long rides await us.”

You smiled. “But at least we’ll be together, right?” you offered tentatively.

“Twilight, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

* * *

_“ Love is a game_  
_of tic-tac-toe,_  
_constantly waiting_  
_for the next x or o. ”_

_~ Lang Leave, Love & Misadventures_


	2. V - VII

# V. The Humdrum of Routine

It’s interesting how quickly one falls into routine, into patterns that are both familiar and novel, tacitly established as most things are.

I never expected you to buy us coffee in the mornings, yet you always did.

You never expected me to buy us tea at night, yet I always did.

So many things begin silently, have you noticed? Or, rather, not silently so much as…there’s a word for it…unnoticed? That’s not quite it, but I can’t think of anything else. Oh well.

Anyway…

What was I talking about?

I bought you tea, and you bought me coffee. We slept in carriage 3-C in the mornings, and we gossiped in carriage 2-A in the evenings. You almost never sat next to me.

You read me stories. The sun had not yet risen, and you sat straight on your seat, using the carriage’s dim light to read from your book, while I allowed my cheek to get intimately acquainted with the chilly window. Sometimes I’d look at the scenery. Sometimes I’d close my eyes and imagine your tale in my head. Mostly, I slept.

 _“It was this seeming seriousness that made her all the more bewildering,”_  you read aloud in your lovely voice, the words seamlessly drifting in and out of the fragments of my sleepy consciousness. Your tone was severe, as though Equestria’s very fate rested on your ability to tell a story.  _“What she was saying was impossible in the extreme. Foolish, childish. Princesses that come from make-believe realms? Fairy tales, all of it, and yet… and yet when she spoke, her tone was measured. Rationality colored her whole character, and—”_

You stopped.

I knew what was coming, so I spoke before you could.

“If you plan on chastising me for falling asleep, I’ll have you know you’re wasting your breath, Twilight,” I said, suppressing a yawn. “I’ve been following along. Now, go on with the story, please.”

You hummed, and I heard the flipping of pages. “Uhm… Where was I? Oh!” You cleared your throat, and I nuzzled the window, gratefully welcoming more minutes of sleep. Or, so I thought, until you spoke up again. “But, before I do…”

And with that, I told myself it had been worth a try.

Yes, yes! Laugh it up! You were cruel, Twilight! Cruel, cruel, cruel!

“Mmm?” I asked, playing along in a game I’d already lost.

“Sooooo,” you said, trying to sound adorably innocent, which I imagine was difficult when you were only _one_  of those things! “What was the name of the traveler?”

In my hesitation, you found your reply while I found a smug voice that would not go away no matter how hard I pressed my ears against my head.

“Ah-ha! I  _knew_  it! You _did_ fall asleep!”

“Twiiiiliiight,” I whined, tearing myself from the window and shooting you a piteous look. “It’s  _six_  in the morning! You can’t possibly expect me to stay awake! I need my beauty sleep! My rest! My—!” I yawned myself into silence.

“Rarity, you’ve already been sleeping for more than an hour, and if you continue, you’ll feel the exact opposite of well-rested,” you chided, closing the book and frowning. I half-expected you to cross your forelegs and waggle a disapproving hoof at me. “Studies show that the perfect nap should be between thirty to ninety minutes long. Anything longer than that and you’ll feel groggy or worse.”

I scoffed, snuggling up against the window. “Well,  _my_  studies show that more beauty sleep is better, so there! Take your quill out and prepare to take notes, darling; I’m about to turn theory into practice!”  
   
 

   
Two hours went by, and I awoke once again to your gentle voice and soft touch. The sun had risen, and when my eyes fluttered open, I saw you hovering over me, the rays of sunshine illuminating you like a halo.

You looked angelic, I thought, which was fitting considering I felt like I wanted to die.

I groaned, burying my face into the seat and forsaking the sun that dared to wake me.

“Soooo,” you said in that tone of voice when you think you’re being awfully clever. I didn’t even need to look to know you were smirking at me. “Care to share your findings with the class?”

If I had a pillow readily available, I’d have smacked you with it.

We eventually made our way to the castle, and by that I mean, I eventually dragged myself out of the train, into the station and out into the city. My only consolation was that even deprived of sleep, I still looked fabulous. Didn’t I? What do you mean you don’t remember? You had a crush on me! Didn’t you spend your hours stealing glances at me? Sweetheart, you don’t need to deny it! I think it’s endearing!

“Rarity, are you  _sure_  you can handle this?” you asked, eyeing my brand new triple-charged cup of coffee. “It’s only been a week and half and you look exhausted.”

“Twilight Sparkle, I can take care of myself, I’ll have you know,” I reprimanded. “I just need to get used to the routine, is all.”

“I know,” you said. “I’m just…” You drifted off, and when I glanced your way, you seemed to be adrift in a sea of thoughts. You shook your head, and without offering any further explanation, noted: “we’re nearly there.”

“So we are!” I exclaimed, taking another sip of coffee and eyeing the castle looming close. “And Twilight.” I turned to you, lifting my hoof and brushed your bangs back. “Thank you for caring. I do appreciate it, even if I complained about it a little.”

You snorted. “Right. A little.”

And finally, I lifted my hoof and  _booped_  you, as it were.

“A little,” I said, smiling my most dazzling smile, which you returned with a smile of your own.

“Are we meeting for lunch again?” you asked. A travel guide appeared next to you, which you excitedly waved in front of my face. “I’ve been looking for new restaurants to take you to. There’s one in the Knowledge District I think you’ll like, next to the Dragon Library.”

That was the other part of our routine, do you remember? I would work on dresses, you would… do whatever it is you did? Read books? Discuss books? Declare your undying love to boo—Pardon me, I am not exaggerating! You didn’t marry a book only because it’s not socially acceptable!  _I’ve seen the way you look at them, Sparkle._

Ahem.

We both had our duties, of course, but every lunch time was devoted to exploring the city and its many wonders. Our own little bucketlist of places to visit before our time was up.  
   
   
   
   
“Twilight, you know, I don’t think you’ve ever really told me much about your childhood,” I said once.

We were having brunch in one of the Sun District’s more upper class restaurants. It had been a particularly sunny day for the winter season, and I looked tres chic in my scarf, yellow chapeau and sunglasses whilst I elegantly gazed at the foals playing in the gardens.

You blinked at me from across the table, your ears twitching. “I haven’t?”

“You haven’t,” I replied, levitating my sunglasses up onto my head. I looked back towards the foals, making sure to continue looking as elegant as I possibly could. You never knew who you might meet, after all! “It’s not that I don’t think I’m a fascinating individual, but this is your home, darling! You’re more lively in Ponyville than you are here!”

“Ponyville is my home,” you replied. You looked around, and where I saw wonder and novelties, you saw...I want to say familiarity, but that wouldn’t be accurate, would it? You saw in Canterlot what I saw in Ponyville.

Nothing interesting at all.

“Canterlot is  _fine,”_  you continued. “It’s where I grew up, but that’s it. There’s nothing interesting here, besides the Princess, the library, and my family.”

I sighed theatrically. “Well, frankly, I disagree. I love it,” I replied, levitating my drink and taking a sip. “Ponyville is so unspeakably  _plain._  There’s nothing to do there, but Canterlot? Canterlot is as limitless as the imagination! The city of wonders! Of glamour, fashion, and opportunity! It’s the best city in Equestria!”

You giggled. “You’re crazy. Ponyville is so much better”

I harrumphed, putting my glasses back on again. “You’re the crazy one!” I levitated my fork and pointed it towards you. “Come now! Sell it to me! Name one thing from Ponyville that makes it better than Canterlot, and it can’t be our friends!”

You stared at me for the longest time.

Though staring is, perhaps, the wrong expression. You never stared at me, or at anypony or anything. Such an act is much too uncouth for somepony of your intellect. You didn’t look at me, you  _saw_  me. I suppose that’s one of the reasons I enjoyed your company, narcissistic as it sounds. You analyzed me, tried to understand me.

I wish I had analyzed you as you did me. I might have seen what was so clear before me.

I turned away in the face of your silence. “See! You can’t even think of anything!” I looked at you again and smiled devilishly. “Actually,  _I_  can think of  _one thing_  that makes Ponyville better than Canterlot.”

You raised your eyebrow, and smiled, accepting the challenge. “Oh?”

“ _Me,”_  I said, and I wished you could see me fluttering my eyes behind my glasses. “I live there, after all, therefore it is superior to Canterlot. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Once more, you stared at me for the longest time before smiling playfully and resting your chin on your hoof.

“Oh, I do.”  
   
 

# VI. The Gossip of Nobles

Thinking back, those first two weeks now feel like a blur. I remember some important details, some events, but they all seem to obscure into darkness when compared to that night.

What do you mean what night?  _The_  night, Twilight! The one where I first saw you differently.

It started in my workshop while I worked on a new commission for Duchess Silkrose.

You see, when I first took on the job, I thought it was clear that it would entail sewing and tailoring only. I found out soon enough that all of that was simply secondary to my  _real_  job: being the castle’s very own gossip hub.

“And then, can you believe it? That pompous Razor Stream asked me to join him for dinner! What an oaf! Absolutely scandalous, Princess!  _Scandalous!_ ”

I couldn’t fault them, really. Having to stand still for hours on end as I worked on their outfits? It’s no wonder their mouths ran like rivers, and yes, it’s true, I was not entirely off-put. Even if the Grand Galloping Gala had…been a rather unfortunate demonstration of Canterlot’s lacking aristocracy, I was still ensorcelled by it.

Even Princess Celestia indulged in it, the fiend!

She sat by the window, gazing out into the distance as the Duchess spoke, and I silently worked. I had been so nervous when the Princess had first arrived! I’d obviously been expecting her to meet with me eventually--she’d hired me herself, after all—but I hadn’t anticipated on it happening while I was working with a client!

Twilight, not  _everything_  Celestia does is a test!

“Now, Silkrose, you’re being too harsh on poor Razor,” the Princess said with an amused giggle. “He is only smitten.”

Duchess Silkrose, as you might remember, is, well… How shall I say this? Finesse and elegance are words I would hesitate to associate with her. She’s the type of pony who didn’t take care of herself with the expectation that her generous fortune would make up for it, only to find out with old age that such was not the case. She—

Well, yes, she looked like a wrinkly prune, but you don’t have to put it like  _that_ , Twilight.

The Duchess harrumphed. “Smitten! Well, he can be smitten elsewhere! He’ll have to work harder if he wants my attention! Every stallion in Canterlot wants it! I am one of Equestria’s most gorgeous mares!”

I snorted.

What! I couldn’t help it! Yes, I  _know_  it wasn’t polite, but I—! You know what, Twilight? How dare you be so aghast when  _you_  called her  _a wrinkly prune_  not even a minute ago! Well, I didn’t say it to her face, either!

Well, I did, but—

She didn’t notice, and that’s all that matters! I’d perfectly succeeded in masking it as a sneeze!

Or so, I thought, until I glanced towards the window and found the Princess staring right at me. You will never fully comprehend the fear that flooded me in that moment. She was much like you, actually. Never staring at me, but analyzing instead.

Realistically, it must have been only a second or two, but it felt eternal. In her stare, I saw my career go up in flames. My destiny unfolded before me as the seamstress shamed from Canterlot for having an indiscreet opinion on the Duchess’s _very generous_  view of herself.

And then, and I’m not making this up, I give you my word, the Princess smiled at me. She smiled at me and, without breaking eye-contact, said, “Oh, I agree completely.”

I’m telling you, she did!

I had to excuse myself to fetch more fabrics just so the poor Duchess wouldn’t hear my giggling. It wasn’t all that awful of us, really! If you knew the things the Duchess said about the other nobles, I can assure you you’d see I’m entirely justified!

Speaking of which…

“Speaking of which,” she said—I’m being repetitive on purpose! It’s an aesthetic decision!

“Speaking of which,” she said _—again—_ , clearing her throat and humming. The telltale sign of some sort of impeding  _scandalous_  gossip. “The wedding between Platinum Snow and Silver Scales is coming up in a few months, as you know.”

“I do!” the Princess said. “And I’m looking forward to it! There hasn’t been a wedding in the castle in some time.”

You remember them, don’t you, sweetheart? Silver Scale was an oaf, which we’ll discuss in a moment.

But Platinum.

Platinum, now  _she_  was in a class onto itself. I’d never really spoken with her before, but the few times I had, well, the mind did briefly wander towards indelicate thoughts. In a society like ours, where there’s so much more ladies than there are gentlecolts, one must always keep one's options open. At the time, I leaned towards stallions, mostly, but stars above, when I saw her, the way her mane perfectly cascaded down her face, and don’t get me started on her silky cerulean coat. It was like divinity and perfe—

Twilight Sparkle, I reasserted my undying love to you in a park not even less than two hours ago. Why in Equestria are you  _jealous?_

Now, as I was saying, or, rather, the Duchess was saying, Platinum and Silver were set to be married in a few months. They were Canterlot’s sweethearts through and through, mostly because you and I weren’t an item yet.  _We would have destroyed them!_

Sadly, they beat us to the proverbial punch.

“What about their wedding?” the Princess inquired, satiating the curiosity that piqued me.

I would have asked myself, but not only would that have been inappropriate, I was otherwise occupied glaring at fabrics through my glasses and deciding which one to use for the Duchess’s dress. I believe I went with silk, because I was young and foolish and distracted.

“Well!” The Duchess chuckled. “Our handsome Silver Scales went on a business trip last week to Trottingham.”

The Princess hummed, her eyes set on the Duchess. “I heard. He has some business ventures there, doesn’t he?”

“Ha! Business? Some would call it that, yes.” She lifted her hoof and patted down her dress. “Well. I was there last week, visiting my dear Professor Brazened, and who did I see but Silver Scales himself leaving the Mithral Hotel with a smile and very interesting company.”

I remember holding my breath, my needle floating inches away from the fabric. My mind reeled with all the possible directions she was going with that, and every direction was more scandalous than the last. Why, even the Princess was interested, her body leaning forwards and her ears directed towards the elder mare.

And then  _you_  arrived.

Three knocks at the door, the door rudely swinging open, and you poking your head in with an innocent expression, as though you had not just interrupted the juiciest gossip of the year, and I didn’t want to kill you.

Your eyes flickered towards me first, and my anger only  _slightly_  waned when faced with your brilliant smile. Of course, then you noticed Princess Celestia, and I was  _swiftly_  forgotten, cast aside in favor of your hopeless idolization of your mentor.

“Oh! Princess! Sorry, am I too early?” you asked her, only belatedly glancing at me, like I was some sort of afterthought. You know who wouldn’t have put the Princess before me? Platinum, that’s who! I heard she’s single again. I should send her a lett— _mmph!_

Really. You’re just going to slap your dirty hooves on my mouth. Not even use a muzzling spell. Your finesse is unparalleled.

“Oh, er, Twilight!” I exclaimed, putting down my things and trotting towards you. You had not told me you’d be dropping by unannounced, and I knew the Duchess wouldn’t take kindly to me entertaining you while she waited. I threw the Duchess a pained smile and then nudged you along. “Twilight, darling, I won’t be long. Be a dear and come back later, won’t you?”

“It’s all right, Rarity,” the Princess said suddenly, getting up and smiling. “Twilight asked me earlier today to let you have the evening off.”

I blinked at her and then at you, finding you grinning widely. “You did…?” I turned to the Duchess. “But, I…”

“Duchess! Won’t you join me for tea?” Princess Celestia said briskly. “You  _have_  to tell me more about your little encounter in Trottingham.”

The Duchess nodded effusively, and after instructing me to please be ready for her the next week, she and the Princess left, taking with them the dastardly secret of the century. I sighed a heavy sigh, taking off my glasses and placing them wherever I usually placed them. I was too distraught to fully care.

“Well, I hope you’re happy, Twilight,” I told you. “Now I’ll never know who she saw the Duke with.”

You rolled your eyes. “Tragic.”

And it really was tragic, and no, I will not get over it! It was the talk of the castle weeks later, and you completely stripped me off the pleasure of walking around before that, knowing I knew something they didn’t! Honestly, you were so inconsiderate to my plights.

“Anyway,” you said after I huffed at you, “are you ready to go?”

“Ready to go? Ready to go where?” I asked, my indignation subsiding in the face of your secrets. It was something that fascinated me about you, and still does. No matter how sure I am that I know you perfectly, you always manage to surprise me.

You hummed innocently. “You said the other day that I’ve never really told you much about my foalhood. Well...” You tilted your head to the side, nodding to the saddlebag hanging on your back. “If you’re okay with taking the eleven o’clock train, I can  _show_  you.”

“Show me?” I asked, and when I prompted for an explanation, you only instructed me to pack my things. We wouldn’t be coming back, you assured.

And you were right.

There was no coming back to the way we were after that night.  
   
 

# VII. Alone Together

Do you still remember the little art shop at the entrance of the Moon District? Yes, the one with the rather odd shopkeeper. It closed about a month ago, I heard. It’s a shame, I always did love it.

We lingered by it that night, too, remember? My favorite district had always been the Sun one, with all its boutiques and high-end restaurants. I only ever ventured into the Moon District to visit the art stores. Fashion is my passion, but I sometimes indulged in the more traditional artistry.

“Do you think they were painted by hoof?” you asked, admiring the symbols adorning the shop’s window panes. Black crescent moons and stars, almost like a tribute to Princess Luna herself.

“I don’t believe they were,” I replied. “They all look identical, see? They all even have the same mistake in the corner. They must have been spray-painted. No two hoof-drawn design will ever be the same.”

“Do you like to paint, then?” you asked.

“Occasionally. I would paint more if I had the time.”

You smiled. “I’m sure you will.”

You led me away from the shop, going off in a tangent about the history of spray-painting, because of course you would happen to know the history of such a thing. I couldn’t say it had ever been something of interest to me, but you spoke with such passion, I couldn’t help but be enthralled. Even now I know you had my undivided attention simply because I can’t remember what other shops we passed by that night.

Eventually, we reached our destination in the shape of _The Folded Bookmark,_ a library that would soon enough become a recurrent location in that chapter of my life. The two-story black building was certainly interesting enough in its design: four oval windows, two glass doors with red handles, a worn-out sign depicting a, well, folded bookmark, and a white spiral clo—

What do you mean why am I describing it? Twilight Sparkle, I am telling a story here! I don’t care if you already know what it looks like! Well, fine, I won’t describe anything anymore!

“Is this it?” I asked, and you nodded.

“It was my favorite library after the Princess’s,” you said. “You can see the Royal Park Amphitheatre from the top floor.” You glance— you looked alarmed, but you already know  _why_ you were alarmed so why even  _bother_ descri—

Hm? Oh, curious, I thought you didn’t  _want_  descriptions.

You glanced at a clock, and your ears stood up in alarm. “It’s almost seven! It’s going to start without us!”

Before I could question you on what was starting without us, you rushed forwards, opening the door and gesturing for me to follow. We stepped inside, and I was overcome with the scent of old scrolls and dry ink. I remember being impressed by the size of the place, with its dozens of bookcases arranged almost like a labyrinth.

After you greeted the librarian, you finally approached me.

“What do you think?” you asked, fixing me with a...what’s the word? Seeking? Beseeching! Fixing me with a beseeching stare. You were like a filly awaiting judgement on her latest creation.

“Well…” I paused. For effect, yes. I looked around, scanning the bookshelves, the ponies walking about, and then I turned to you and smiled. “It reminds me of you.”

I thought it was a compliment, but the way you looked at me clearly showed you didn’t take it as such. Just remembering it makes me laugh. You are so painfully easy to read at times, Twilight. You didn’t say anything, but you stared at me with a furrowed brow, clearly trying to figure out whether or not I had just complimented or insulted you.

“Darling. That’s a good thing,” I said with a playful smile, and you silly filly, you practically fell to the floor with relief.

“Oh! Uhm, I knew that,” you said, and then added, “I’m glad you like it!”

Honestly, I was flattered my opinion meant so much to you! Unlike now, where I’m just old news to be brushed off when I scold you for eating too much cake.

“It’s very charming,” I said. “I can see why you’d spend your time here as a filly.”

“Oh no,” you said, and you smirked at me, and honestly, I still don’t understand how it took me so long to fall for you. In a competition for most heart-throbbing smiles, you’d win bronze, silver, gold and then some. “We’re not there yet.”

And you say you’re not one for showmareship! Wait, I said it? I would never! I have always said you’re a mare with a flair for theatrics! And what theatrics indeed as you giggled and led me up staircases and towards the second floor. We trotted past bookcases, past ponies reading and sleeping on couches, and finally ran into a large black door marked with the bolded red words: Do Not Enter.

Not ominous  _at all_.

You tried the handle at first, but found out it was locked. You hummed. I frowned.

“Twilight, I don’t understand,” I said.

You blinked. I waited. Neither talked. Time came to a stop. What? No, I’m talking in short sentences for suspense! Will you let me tell my story, for goodness’s sake?!

The tension was high. You looked at me. I looked at you. You were beautiful. No, that is  _not_  irrelevant. Your horn crackled with magic. A clicking sound shot off. And the locked door suddenly swung open, revealing a set of spiral stairs.

“There we go!” you exclaimed.

“Twilight! You just opened it!” I whispered urgently, looking around in alarm. When you said you had a surprise, I hadn’t expected mischief!

“I did,” you said, standing up straight, proud of your wrongdoing. “It’s a pretty simple spell.”

Well! I was certainly…impressed.

“My, my, _my,_  Twi-light Spar-kle, you scoundrel!” I whispered, stepping back and regarding you in a whole new light. I liked this rebellious streak. “I’d never thought you to be into illegal activities, but darling, I approve.” I giggled, tapped you on the nose, and stepped into the forbidden pathway. “It’s very alluring.”

To this and to my dying day, I will never forget the expression you made. It had only been a playful comment! There was nothing more to it, just a friend doing a bit of innocent flirty teasing, but stars above, your face turned twenty shades of red in record time!

“Rarity!” you gasped, appalled! Shocked! Flustered beyond belief! “I wasn’t—! I’m not into illegal activities! The librarian gave me permission to come in!  _Rarity!”_

I ignored you in favor of trotting up the stairs. It wasn’t very nice, but I found your indignation entertaining, so I simply giggled and listened as you stomped your way behind me. I ascended the spiral staircases, and finally reached the attic, and what a sight indeed.

It’s still one of my favorite places in the world. The walls lined with bookcases storing all kinds of art and scientific devices; the faded paintings hanging on the walls; the  _mess_  of papers, notes and  _life_  strewn about the floor; and the glass ceiling from where you could clearly see the night sky and its plethora of stars.

I was breathless.

“ _This_  is what I wanted to show you,” you softly said, and at the moment I didn’t notice it, but you voice lacked the smugness I’d have expected of you. You weren’t amused by my awe, but rather…

I can’t find the words. Or, I can, but… It’s too corny, Twilight! Yes, even for me!

All right, let me gather my thoughts.

I could see traces of you all over the room. The half-opened books, the checklists on the walls, the stash of gems and rubies for dragons to munch on, the little couch where you read, and the unmistakeable scent of you. Fresh ink, dusty book pages, and oak wood.

It was intimate. That’s the word I want. Not intimate in a sensual or risque way, but intimate in a completely personal way. Intimate in the way that somepony opening up to you is intimate, as that was exactly what you were doing. I was being allowed to step into your world and, at that moment, I assumed I was merely there to observe it.

“Twilight, this is…”

I didn’t quite know what to say.

“Wait,” you said, and your giddy smile returned. “It gets better.”

You trotted over towards the edge of the room, your horn aglow, and one of the ceiling’s glass panes revealed itself to be window. You opened it, and the sounds of the city life entered the room. A clock appeared before you, which you squinted at.

“It should be starting any minute now,” you informed.

“What will be starting?” I asked, disconcerted.

You simply set the clock down on a table and tilted your head. “Remember what I said earlier? That we’re right next to the Grand Park’s amphitheater? Well… They hold classical music concerts every Thursday.”

And just like magic, or more likely you’d somehow managed to plan it down to the second, the sound of effusive clapping followed, and moments later, classical music filled the room, like a distant, soothing hum.

“I would come here every Thursday,” you said. “To read, or work, or read.”

“And read, too?” I asked with a grin, and you laughed.

“That too,” you said, and I found myself, I think, enchanted by you. Moreso than ever before, and moreso by  _you_  than anything else that  _surrounded_  you. You weren’t Twilight, Princess Celestia’s student. You weren’t Twilight, a mare brought up in Canterlot.

You were you; smart, and silly, sharp, and witty.

It didn’t matter whether it was romantic or not, I was enchanted by you and this world that was yours and yours alone.

“I have something for you,” you said, drawing me out of my reveries. You opened up a nearby closet and an easel and several canvases came floating out. You placed them on an open spot where the moonlight shone down upon them like a spotlight. Details, details, details that I was blind to. “I saw you sketching on a napkin when we were at  _Flaming Delicacies_ , so I thought maybe you’d like to paint on something less, uh, expendable.”

I stepped towards it, taken aback. “I…”

“I also have pencils and materials!” you continued, and so did a beautiful wooden box float towards me, opening itself to reveal a plethora of brushes, oils, of pencils and chalks, of anything I could ever want. They were a bit worn, but still in very good condition. “They were mine. I’d have gotten you new ones, but the store I buy them at had run out of this model.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do.

“I’m not…” I faltered. “I don’t know, I—”

And I thought I was generous with my actions.

“You don’t like it?” you asked suddenly, and in your eyes I saw fear. The fear I see so often in you, when you  _assume_  you’ve done wrong. The fear that is almost always followed by dozens of preemptive excuses and apologies and justifications. “I thought maybe you’d like to—! We don’t have to if you don’t want to!”

Your magic brushed the easel, and I spoke up before you could take anything away.

“No, no, I love it!” I exclaimed, grabbing the easel with my hoof. “This is wonderful! I’m just… Well, you put a lot of thought into all this! I was moved, is all! This clearly took effort!” You still seemed unconvinced, so I flipped my mane and fluttered my eyelashes. “As it should have! This  _was_  for me, after all, and I expect nothing less than  _perfection_.”

Finally, you smiled and I’d never been happier to see you roll your eyes at me. “Right.”

“Though there is something amiss, Twilight,” I said, because I was cruel, and yes, I got a little thrill out of seeing just how fast you panicked again. Yes, I love you too.

“There is?” you asked, and a checklist appeared next to you, which you reviewed for mishaps.

“Well, yes,” I said. “Isn’t it rather rude of me to paint while I’m in your lovely company? Painting is… it’s a lengthy process, darling, and I don’t think you’ll be entertained by watching me draw the same line thirty times in a row.”

“Oh!” You sighed, relieved. “That’s all right, Rarity. I was going to work on one of my assignments. I’ll be quiet, don’t worry.”

You walked over to your chair, took off your saddlebags and then pulled out several heavy looking books. I remember you couldn’t decide on which to read before you finally settled on the thickest one, snuggled into your couch, and just like that, began to read.

I think I stared at you for about a minute until you finally looked up, your ears perking up.

“Is something wrong?” you asked.

“So, just to make sure I understand, I’m going to draw in silence, and you’re going to read in silence?” I asked, and you nodded. “I see.”

“Alone together,” you said suddenly. “It’s something I came up with Spike. We’d do our own tasks, but in the same room so we’d still have company.” You paused and looked around. “There’s some art books over by that table, if you want to look at them.” You grinned. “They might help for inspiration.”

Alone Together.

“You’re a very peculiar individual, Twilight,” I said, moving to sit behind the easel. “And before you ask, I mean that as a compliment.”

You shook your head, but rather than shoot back a reply, you again snuggled up into the couch and allowed yourself a smile. I, on the other hoof, prepared myself for the night. The music was lovely, and truthfully, there had been some ideas I’d been itching to sketch out.

Or, well, so I thought.

I believe I told you once that you stole my heart via the powers of suggestion. You weaved yourself into my life, fixing frayed seams here and there, until you were firmly tethered in my consciousness and my heart.

Maybe things could have gone differently that night. Maybe the concert might have been postponed, and the mood not been set. Maybe I wouldn’t have found you endlessly charming that night, and I’d have gone on to sketch a fabulous design for a new gown.

But I did, in fact, find you charming.

Earlier, I told you I didn’t really notice you before. Well, that night, you were the only thing I  _could_  notice. I am neither foolish nor foalish enough to presume that one falls in love at first sight, and my experience at the Gala had quickly done away with those notions altogether. There  _is_ physical attraction at first sight, I’ll give you that, but  _love_  is different. Or maybe it was different for me.

I levitated one of the art books, flipped through its pages, and yet even now I distinctly remember the impulse to look at you, to see what you were doing. Alone together, you’d said. It was difficult to grasp at first. I am a social creature at heart, I thrive off talking, interacting, bouncing off others. The only pony who I willingly subdue myself for is Fluttershy, and even then I find it hard not to talk, talk, talk.

But this was different. This was, as I said, your world, and I realized in this alone but togetherness, that you weren’t inviting me to observe, but to _join._

And so I did.

I put the art book down, scanned your box of wonders for a lavender pencil, and then, silently, I began to sketch out the real you, not the Twilight Sparkle model I used to design your dress. It called to me, the impulse to depict a silly little pony reading on her couch.

I was absorbed by it. By you. How absolutely cliche, but it was true. I felt so completely comfortable in your presence, enough that you  _became_ my presence.

Nearly an hour sped past before we were both pulled out of our shared worlds by the simple act of our eyes meeting. I had an excuse to keep looking at you, considering I  _was_  drawing you; but you, you just liked to look at me. That has yet to change, even now, has it, darling?

Our eyes met for a flicker of a second, and just like before, just like with the hug, my mind wondered for a second, debated if there was something more. And that time, it stayed there for more than just a second.

“How’s your assignment going?” I asked, finding I wanted to hear your voice.

“I’m about to finish in...now!” With a triumphant smile, you closed the book and placed it on a nearby table. You looked terribly pleased. “How about you? Did you find inspiration?”

Hah! If only you knew.

Frankly, if only I knew.

“I did,” I said cryptically, putting away the pencil and admiring the...mess of failed attempts I had going. I blamed it on the fact that designing dresses meant i only ever had to draw the same pose over and over again. And ponies. Who knew drawing a couch could be so difficult?

“Ooooh, can I see?” you asked, jumping off your seat and trotting towards me. You let out the cutest yelp when I magicked you back to your seat.

“Nonononon! It’s not ready yet!” I exclaimed.

I was...at the time, I told myself I simply didn’t want you to see an unfinished artwork, but, in retrospect, I was in denial over the real reason. You had put in so much effort for me, it was only right I pay it back with a beautiful piece of art.

You shot me the most piteous whine before sinking back into your couch.

“Why don’t you read me a book?” I asked as I tried drawing that forsaken couch for the  _sixth_  time.

I remember you stared at me like either I’d gone insane, or you were just now realizing you liked me, or both.

“What?”

“You’re finished with your assignment, aren’t you?” I elaborated, giving up on the damned couch and instead working on perfecting your pose. “We still have about an hour left. Why not read me a book?” I peeked my head out from behind the easel and grinned. “Especially now that I won’t fall asleep halfway through, hmm?”

Your eyes sparkled. “Really?” you asked, as though I had just granted you a long-coveted wish.

“Yes, really. Come along,  _maestro,_ ” I said, and laughed as you practically threw yourself off the couch and looked around for something to read.

You were so terribly endearing. You made me smile. You still do, even when you’re driving me mad. Well, maybe not when I’m mad at you, no, but certainly when I’m mad about you, love.

Eventually, you found what you sought with a victorious “Ah-hah!” and then rushed back to the couch, wiggling yourself into an optimal reading position—in other words, snuggling against the couch like a filly, levitating the book in front of you and then clapping your hooves in excitement.

Stars above, Twilight, you were so cute. I loved you so much even when I didn’t know I loved you.

“Okay, so, right.” You licked your lips, cleared your throat, and as I continued to forever inscribe you in my canvas, you began to read.

“ _Where should I begin? Where is the best place? Where did it truly begin? For Her, it began a very, very long time ago, and in a different land. But for myself, it began one night on the doorstep of summer, when a visitor came to our town…”_  
  
  
  
   
I didn’t finish my painting that night. I didn’t let you see it either. And it weighed on my heart, which you seemed to have noticed.

“We can come back next Thursday,” you said as we walked back towards the station, your little book floating behind you. We hadn’t finished that either, and I absolutely refused to go home that night without at least getting to the confession between the protagonists. “The concert will be playing again, and you can finish it then.”

I liked that idea. I wanted it, I found; to again be in that small haven and to paint while you lingered close, reading me novels and giggling at my frustrated whines when painting was not going well.

The train was nearly empty, and we were able to secure our private cabin once again. It was late, and I could feel sleep lulling me away. I knew I would fall asleep if you read, and yet I still wanted you to do so.

I sat down first, and when you stepped in, I smiled at you. I remember patting the seat next to me. I have to know, did you not see me, or did you completely ignore me? You… You thought I _was dusting off the seat?!_

You’re hopeless, and I don’t understand why I’m so in love with you.

We truly are all mad.

So, as I was saying, I sat down first, and when you stepped in, you thought I was dusting off the seat and considerately sat across from me. I remember feeling like it was wrong. Like you’d invited me into your secret inner circle, and had now unceremoniously ousted me.

I remember thinking that would not do.

So, if you weren’t going to sit next to me, then I would simply have to sit next you.

I left my bag on my seat, got up, and before you could question me, I sat down besides you. You froze next to me, and I wondered for a moment if perhaps I’d overstepped my place. I made sure to leave ample space between us.

“Now, shall we continue?” I asked, eyeing your book. “You left off at the best part!”

Finally, you cleared your throat and continued, “ _There are moments when we make a decision without a conscious thought. Where, one moment, our whole disposition lay in a single direction, and before any change can be detected, one has done quite the opposite. I felt that I did not want to push her. I felt that these strongholds in my mind, the dreams and the blood on my collar, all of it, were not things I wanted to touch._ ”

You paused.

_“But touch them I did.”_

Touch them I did, indeed.

You continued to read, and I glanced down at the seats, at the tiny yet massive distance separating us. I thought of your world, the one you’d let me into, and even though moments ago I’d been determined on giving you space, I found myself moving closer, our coats intertwining as I leaned against you to read alongside you.

You froze again.

“Twilight?” I asked cautiously. “Is this all right?”

“Yes,” you said after a moment, and you relaxed next to me, once again submerged in our little bubble of quiet togetherness.

You continued to read, and we almost never sat apart again.

* * *

“ **You**  were  **you** ,  
and  **I**  was **I** ;  
we were two  
before our time.

**I**  was **yours**  
before  **I**  knew,  
and  **you**  have always  
been  **mine**  too.”

~ Lang Leave, Love & Misadventures

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you see typos, please!


End file.
